


Mars désarmé par Vénus

by Al_D_Baran



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Cunnilingus, Falling In Love, Gladiator Shiro (Voltron), Gladiators, Happy Ending, Heat Wave: An ABO Voltron Zine, M/M, Marriage, Oral Sex, Sex Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-06 22:14:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15204587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Al_D_Baran/pseuds/Al_D_Baran
Summary: Shiro, a gladiator, sees his grim routine change after meeting a mysterious bedwarmer named Keith.





	Mars désarmé par Vénus

**Author's Note:**

> wew, this was written a while ago for a/b/o zine!  
> it was great to be part of this project and i hope y'all like the fic!

It’s a spectacle.

He’s the spectacle.

A beast without chains but trapped in a cage of marble and sand, unmuzzled and let free with another creature of the lowest extraction, for the crowd’s greatest pleasure. They stare at one another, gauging, waiting, patient. The first strike is always decisive, and he’s learned when to give it, when to jump and exactly how long the crowd should be left simmering for it to explode with cheers for violence.

It’s been so long since he was anything but a beast, his life lived once with freedom now lived to the rhythm of broadswords, sparks and blood spurring on the sand. To the shock of blades and the mercy of the Emperor, the meagre meals and the spectacle’s whim.

He gives the show and he is the show.

It’s part of him as much as he is part of it.

He could have forgotten his name for the one they chant in the arenas and the coliseums.

_Champion._

_Champion._

_Champion!_

A beast, wild and untameable, with a smirk and fangs. Dangerous, ruthless and always the winner – if not in battle, in the heart of the crowd. He’s famous and beloved by the entirety of the imperial citizenship and yet…

He could have forgotten his own name if he did not hate being their Champion so much. It feels like it’s been years since he’s last heard his name, his tongue, the wind in the trees where he was born and grew, under the watchful eyes of the seasons. The murmur of rivers and the songs of birds, the harmony of life. He’s only heard the cacophony of civilisation for so long.

So, when, still weary from his last circus, someone asks for his name, he simply answers, with near sincerity, “Champion.”

And it’s the name he bears, now.

Should the previous one matter now that he’ll be forever the show and the actor?

It’s why he’s so surprised when the same, even voice asks again, “No. Your real name.” There’s not an ounce of fear or worry, as if he doesn’t scare him. “Not the one they force you to be down there for these fools.”

He looks at him, that stranger in his bed. Clearly, this is an Omega whore – young, gorgeous, doused in perfumes that are said to stimulate arousal in Alphas, painted and wrapped like a gift. The crowd must have loved the show he was moments ago, if Prorok allows for him to have a bedwarmer beneath his blankets.

He’s a little embarrassed – his quarters are claustrophobics and messy. He can’t say he receives guests he’d rather make an impression on very often and he’d have liked to look at least presentable to that Omega. Not only because he is beautiful but because the Champion would simply prefer to appear put together, even in private.

Even more embarrassed as he is, the Omega is pretty, his hair as dark as his skin is pale, just like the snows he used to dive in as a child. He reminds him of a winter night, hair like the starlit sky and his skin just like the snow, glowing under the moonlight, nearly pearlescent. His smell should remind him of trees then, natural and cool  but the masters have quenched his natural scent under a thick smell of exotic spices, meant to arouse men but Shiro’s sensitive nose wrinkles upon smelling them. The Champion’s trained eyes can see, too, the lean muscles just beneath his skin whenever the bedwarmer moves, hidden like a trap door under the Arena’s sand. He’s as stunning as he must be dangerous, and he’s intrigued, against his own judgement.

“Won’t you tell me your name?” he asks again, still as calm as he was before, unimpressed by the muscular man just next to him, tracing patterns from his fingertips on his bicep, looking at the bulging muscles with what he deduces is both envy and attraction, from the way he bites his lower lip. He can’t think of the last time he didn’t feel ogled from someone enjoying the view of him. “I’ll give you mine in return if you do. It’ll be… an exchange, of sort.”

His real name.

For a moment, he must think about it, as if he could have imagined it all. His previous life, his memories, the wind in the canopies and his hair, the tastes of wild strawberries he’d pick in the grass as a child. Couldn’t he have imagined all the sweetness of his childhood to cope with his harsh reality? Or at least, romanced the ruralness of it to bear the violence of cheers? He would feel dishonest to give it then, if that name was just a dream and that, in fact, he couldn’t remember the name his mother would have given him.

So, when he’s sure, the Champion confesses, “Shiro.”

It might be all of it. He’s forgotten so much from then – even the face of his own father. The bedwarmer feels his unease and squeezes his arm, a little awkwardly, realising even the simple question opens a deep wound. His mind a little clearer now, Shiro realises he might have taken a meaner hit to the head than he’s thought, to be so confused to have a stranger in his bed. He can’t even remember how he’s got in his own bed after the mise-à-mort  of tonight.

“Well, Shiro,” the Omega says, rolling a little closer now that he deemed he’ll be safe to do so. “Our master thinks you’ve given them the game the Emperor wants his citizen to have tonight. But since I’m here, you could already guess it.”

Shiro chuckles, “Let me guess… You would be the bread I’ve deserved?”

“I can be the game if you want me to,” the stranger purrs, this time dragging his index across his chest, appreciating the hardness of his pectorals and eyeing the washboard abs, as if thinking he would be most comfortable on them.

The cheesy euphemisms make them both laugh. The Omega warming his bed for tonight doesn’t look much older than a boy, with eyes dark and shimmering in the light of torches. He looks markedly different from the citizens and even the other slaves, Shiro can’t help himself but be curious of his origins – asking would be too personal for them now, still. He doesn’t even know his name yet, he remembers when he runs his fingers through his impossibly silky hair.

“You said you’d give me your name, too.”He

“I’ll have to be true to my words, then,” the young man agrees, then gives as promised, “My name is Keith.” As soon as the promise is due, the boy’s behaviour changes and even Shiro is surprised when he climbs over him to kiss him, hungrily and lacking the skills he’d expect from a pleasure slave. Still – he doesn’t want sex. Not with a boy Prorok sent to his room, probably terrified from meeting the Champion in such a tight space as a bedroom.

No, it’s not true. Shiro’s attracted to him, more than he’s been to many bedwarmers he’s seen but he doesn’t want it. And he feels… wrong to take from a slave, especially one that looks as young as he does, even more when there’s something naïve and vulnerable in these indigo eyes.

Shiro grunts and flips them over easily. As much as the Omega isn’t defenceless, he’s but a twig next to Shiro. Underneath him, Keith’s expression changes to a darker one and Shiro moves, lying next to him and using his chest as a pillow. Now that he’s so close to the scent gland of his jaw, Shiro can smell pines and barrens on him, something that reminds him of home so much he almost chokes on his own nostalgia.

“Sorry, can’t give another performance right now… I’d rather not look less than virile in front of a pretty boy like you,” Shiro says, earning a snort from the self-deprecating humour, making his chest rumble beneath his ear. He could get addicted to the sound.

Keith relaxes in turn, running his fingers through his short hair.

“Sure. I’ll keep your bed warm tonight, Shiro.”

It might have been a century since the last time he slept with someone in his bed.

Should he even trust Keith? He could have been paid by a disgruntled opponent to poison him in his sleep, for all Shiro knows.

Right after, he thinks there’s worse ways to go than sleeping soundly in a pretty Omega’s arms. It might even be a good way to die – in his bed, with the young man’s fingers massaging his scalp…

He’s not slept so well in years.

 

 

 

They are closer than Shiro’s let anyone be close to him ever since he was captured. Maybe it’s because he misses speaking their language or because Keith’s smell reminds him of home but… they have become unlikely friends. Shiro protects him as he can, requesting Prorok to let Keith to him and having the bedwarmer move to his room, under the guise that he would take him as his.

If a little lie can save Keith from the beds he hates, Shiro is willing to tell it repeatedly.

“Where else would we go?” Keith sighs.

The answer is just what he expects. “We could go home,” Shiro says. “Just… go straight up North.” He doesn’t even sound like he believes it himself.

But Keith smiles. Ever the romantic, Shiro thinks to himself.

“I’d like to go home someday,” Keith answers, sincere, because he is honest before all.

 

 

 

What would he do with freedom? Keith tells him another day. Whores that are freed only end up unprotected. He’d be miserable. Omegas aren’t meant to be anything but property, he says, sounding like he really does believe it.

It breaks Shiro’s heart.

 

 

 

The baths are empty but for them and Shiro enjoys finally being clean. Keith is lying next to him, sprawled across the ledge, finger tracing the patterns between the mosaic pieces.

As much as he tries, Shiro can’t help himself but stare at the lovely shape of Keith’s ass. It’s not as cushioned as the preferred Omegas of the masters – Keith is boyish rather than shapely, even if his waist is thin enough that he can wrap both hands around it. Keith is beautiful, no matter how much his friend denies it.

Shiro can’t believe how his heart sting at the idea of only calling him a friend. He’s sharp-tongue and quick-witted, sarcastic and yet sweet. Beneath the act of a tough and mysterious seductress, Shiro sees Keith as a young Omega, one he’d be content to hold his hand, to marry, as they have once joked about, since they were from allied peoples, they could have been wed.

Shiro can’t believe he would have liked that.

He cherishes Keith now and he would have then, perhaps with less gentleness. The Keith he knows can be quietly sombre, looking like there is so much on his mind, too much for someone his age. The same goes for himself, Shiro knows. Keith tells him he reminds him of an old legionnaire sometimes, fatigued and eager find the arms of his spouse after a long service to the Empire.

“You’re thinking so much,” Keith calls from the reality, breaking his daydream.

Then, the boy laughs.

“You’re blushing? Is Shiro, the fearsome Champion blushing at my tits?” he asks with disbelief, standing a little taller as the Alpha adverts his eyes.

No – he’s just… he’s blushing at everything. Everything about Keith makes him want to go home to him.

“I – you’re…” Shiro swallows, kicking himself for being such a doormat and splashes his friend with the warm water of the bath. “You should know the effect you have on Alphas, Keith! You are…” He trails off, looking at him, unsure if he’s trying to find words, but he surely cannot say any right now.

The Omega stops there, watching him worriedly.

“Keith?” Shiro tries, softly, when the silence grows too heavy.

“I know what kind of things I do to Alphas.” The words are hard. Shiro can’t believe how little tact he has as soon as Keith undresses. He’s the older one – he should know how to behave, and it shouldn’t be like an idiot.

“I’m sorry if you think… I meant that it made me want to – I would never do anything to you that you didn’t agree with.” What a dishonest way to admit Keith aroused him. “I… want you to feel safe with me. You’ve been… in my room all this time because this is what I want. I… you are so important to me, Keith. I don’t want to mess this. What… we have. I’ve never had a friend in this place.”

Keith’s face lights up with curiosity. Another man would probably have climbed on him before. Shiro doesn’t want to think about what other Alphas would do to him, to the young Omega he’d want to claim as his mate.

“If I wanted you to, what would you want to do to me?” he asks, still ready to leave, but willing to hear him.

With all the honesty he can have, Shiro comes a little closer, kneeling in the deeper water to show his devotion, “I’d want to cherish you. To listen to you. To keep you warm, safe…” And there are other things, Shiro thinks when he looks at Keith’s beautiful bosoms, the thick and muscular thighs he reaches to graze lightly.

“I’ve dreamt of eating you out,” he confesses without shame, somehow managing not to give a look to Keith’s inviting slit. “Making you come with pleasure I can give from my mouth. To let you ride me. Giving you everything you want from me. You deserve everything I can give.”

“Those… sound like wedding vows made during a bacchanalia,” Keith says, voice hoarse. When Shiro dares to breathe, the scent of arousal hits him. He’s so close to Keith’s intimacy and he wants to taste it, sighing in need.

“I’d hold these vows every night if you asked me,” Shiro promises.

Keith sits down and opens his legs to him, “Tonight’s a good night, Alpha. Your Venus is in a good mood.”

Shiro dives before Keith can take a breath. The water’s taken away the natural slick of his cunt and the skin is unblemished where he kisses, without the hair he’s used to. He’s heard this is a thing upper class Omegas do – Shiro wonders if any rich man ever lays hands on him. Possessiveness rise in his guts with fire and he dart his tongue inside, tasting the nectar that comes easily.

Keith whines with bliss. Shiro chuckles as the confidence of earlier crumbles. Has his Omega ever had an Alpha that cared for his pleasure before his? Shiro is generous. He wants nothing more but to make Keith come, to taste him. His hands move to Keith’s cock before he sucks on the head, feeling the same slick touch his tongue where it leaks from the head. His fingers find the sensitive slit again. Carefully, he rubs his index around his entrance before pushing inside.

Keith is loose with bliss, lying in front of him with his thighs splayed. Shiro thinks he looks like a feast only for him, an _epulum_ with a meal reserved only for a distinguished guest. His thumb finds Keith’s clit and presses it, gentle, discovering every flavours Keith might like. The furnished irony of a bedwarmer feeling like a virgin is not lost on him. Shiro promises himself to let Keith experience his own pleasure.

Thirsty, the Alpha returns to his cunt to push his tongue inside when he knows the peak is close. Like a theatre act he’d have known by heart, Keith does come an instant later. Shiro drinks his juices with avarice, chin messy with them.

“This is what you deserve,” Shiro says as he climbs over him, imagining, if only for his own ego, that this was Keith’s first orgasm. “This, every day.”

Keith laughs breathlessly, pulling him down for a kiss. “You’ve taken a pretty awful wife, legionnaire.” His eyes move to his crotch and Shiro turns his face back to him. The surprise on the boy’s face is painful, even if Keith seems happy. It makes him want to protect him even more. He feels a rut coming and ignores it with determination.

“Dowry’s not what matters to your husband,” Shiro says, truthfully. “But he’ll give you everything you want.”

“How sweet is he,” Keith says, kissing him again. “Your wife is happy as long as he comes home after his service. I – she’d be lonely if he doesn’t.”

He would.

 

 

 

“You’re… what?”

“Free,” Shiro repeats.

“Oh.” Keith remembers he should be happy, like he would have remembered the pain of an arrow inside his shoulder after the initial shock. “So… what will you do? Prorok… let you buy your freedom?”

Shiro nods.

“Well… there’s not much a gladiator can do.” He can’t read. Doesn’t know where his people are and if any of them are alive still. Keith’s pain is palpable, and the young man evades his touch as he tries to reach him.

“Do you… have anywhere to go?” Keith tries, throat tight, looking away.

“I… have home,” Shiro says, taking out a bag of sestertii.

Keith glares at him, “What? Now that you’re leaving you want to bed me? Now that you’ve talked about how you’d hold vows to me every night you want to buy my cunt before leaving for a field of ashes?”

Shiro swallows a biting answer. He’s not eloquent and he wishes he was, but Keith takes all his means away and transforms them into awkward stuttering.

“I’m… not Prorok’s anymore,” Shiro says slowly. “And… outsiders have to buy a night. I’ll… still fight for him. As a free man, on one condition.”

Keith turns to him again. “You’d accept being a farce for these fools? For what? More glory?” His eyes shine with tears and Shiro wants to wipe them and beg forgiveness to the Omega, even if the hopes would be null.

“I’d accept anything to let you be free. With me,” Shiro says, blurting it out without being able to help himself. “I asked him – to still fight, I asked him to let me buy your freedom. So – I could… marry you as a free man, to keep you safe still. As my wife you – you’d be mine and being mine would keep you safe from these men. I’ll buy your bed every night to keep them from having you.”

Keith stares at him like he’s an idiot. And Shiro knows he is.

“Did you do all this, so I couldn’t refuse to marry you?” he says, smiling, tearing up again.

Shiro fears it’s a reproach and hurries to apologise, “I’m sorry – I don’t want to force your hand but, I want you to be safe and—”

Keith shuts him up with a kiss.

“I’d have accepted before all that. I’d have married you then, without freedom, without a promise.”

Shiro kisses back with the fervour of a devout worshipper, laughing as he spins his fiancé in his arms. Keith laughs again. Shiro thinks no sound could be so beautiful and when he sets Keith down, breathless, the Omega pulls him toward his bed.

“Let me warm your bed,” Keith purrs, undoing his breeches with tempting fingers. Shiro stops, laughing nervously.

“I… am afraid I can’t give another performance after tonight’s fight. I’d only deceive my beautiful wife.”

“On our wedding night?” Keith fakes indignation. “There’ll be other nights,” he adds after, with a mischievous grin, lifting his blankets to let them slide under them, bringing Shiro’s head to his chest.

“Sure. I’ll keep your bed warm tonight, dear husband. And every night after this one.”

**Author's Note:**

> remember to kudos and comment if you liked the fic!


End file.
